What can I say? I wrote a book and now you can read it too.

Here’s an excerpt:

The Faeries Play a Game

“Leave my home. Ha!” Mrs Graypole turned a little hostile toward Gold, but just as quickly tried to smooth her anger away with a smile. She didn’t fool Gold, not with her eyes still fierce. “I don’t think so, ducky. This sounds more like a trick, not a game. I won’t be playing today. Drink your tea, and then it’s time to go.”

“It’s too late to refuse. You’re already playing the game.”

Mrs Graypole twitched. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You asked two questions, and I answered both of them. It’s my turn.”

“But that doesn’t mean…” The old faerie sputtered, but she’d gone quite pale. Her skin turned a mottled gray like the patches of a quilt. She was already bound by the rules of the faerie game, and faeries dislike losing more than anything. Gold smiled, and it was not a pretty smile. “Did those cakes really have bad eggs?”

Mrs Graypole frowned. “As I said.”

“Did they have any poison?” Gold demanded next.

Mrs Graypole sputtered. “N-n-never. As if I’d poison my children with tea cakes. What kind of faerie godmother do you think I am?”

“A curious one. Who invites a child to tea, but doesn’t send them home. Is there magic in your tea cakes?”

“Why do you care so much about the tea cakes?”

“Answer my question first, or you lose.”

Mrs Graypole grumbled, but answered, “Yes, a bit of magic, nothing irrevocable, mind you. Now, it’s your turn.”

Gold blinked and for a moment she forgot Mrs Graypole’s last question. What was it? Right, the teacakes. “I thought it was suspicious the way you snatched them up, when, maybe, I wanted to taste one.”

She looked concerned. “Did you want to try a teacake that much?”

“No.” She freely admitted.

They stared at each other, unflinching. Gold could hardly believe the game was working. She was so nervous ,her hands were clammy and her skin kept itching. She kept wanting to duck and hide under the table, but Mrs Graypole would just drag her out. The gray hood of her sweatshirt covered her face. Gold knew she wasn’t pretty to look at, but she mustered her strength to sit taller in her chair. She had no idea how to win, but then again, winning wasn’t the goal here, just to find out where Stacie Hunter was hidden. Still, Gold hated losing. The thought made her stomach queasy, like she’d eaten a bowl of melted butter.

“What’s wrong with your skin?” Mrs Graypole suddenly demanded, reaching out to push Gold’s sweatshirt back and look at her skinny arm.

Gold shrank back. “Nothing.”

“Is it moldy? Itchy?”

Reluctantly, Gold nodded. Then, true to the game, answered aloud. “Yes, annoyingly itchy and spotted in places like mold.”

Mrs Graypole sniffed. “Hmm oh. Try oiling it, not lotions. Olive oils or lavender oils. That may help. I try to be helpful. When I can, that’s what faerie godmothers do, you know. Help our children. You’re not one of mine and you’re not what you seem.” She squinted across the table, as if Gold was wearing a disguise.

“It’s my turn,” Gold suddenly blurted out. “I get to ask a question now.”

Mrs Graypole nodded once. “Yes, I suppose.”

Gold licked her uneven lips. “Someone was sitting here before me. I know. Look, that’s her cup with the orange flowers.” Gold pointed at the teacup. “She ate those tea cakes even though you say they cooked badly. Where is she now?”

“That’s—that’s a strange accusation. Perhaps that was my teacup. You never know it could have been. You mustn’t assume things.” Mrs Graypole’s eyes darted around and suddenly she exclaimed. “Be right back. Just need to set the kettle on.” She excused herself and started pacing around the kitchen.

Gold leaned over in her chair and watched the faerie turn on the burner, even though there was steam coming from the teakettle already. That’s when the telephone rang. Gold’s eyes zipped toward the phone, a large white one attached to the wall, with a curling white cord.

It kept ringing.

“Are you going to answer that?”

“Yes-yes.”

Mrs Graypole scurried over to answer it. “Hello? Hello, what is it?” she said, but she didn’t pay much attention to whoever spoke on the other side. “What? Who are you? No, I don’t know anyone named Augusta. You have the wrong number. Oh, is that your name? Mrs Arindoni?” The tea kettle whistled brightly. “Sorry, hold on.” She set down the phone, and then ran over and poured hot water into a second teapot. “More tea?” She came out and offered Gold.

“No, thank you.” Gold hadn’t even finished her first cup.

Mrs Graypole went back to the phone. “Yes, what is it?” she shouted. “No, I can’t help you. I don’t know anything about a missing dog. I don’t even own one. I’m sorry. Goodbye.” She hung up.

“Sorry about that — don’t know why people keep calling. I should disconnect the phone. I really should.” Mrs Graypole settled into her chair, pulling it up, squeezed tight against the table. She folded her hands and looked expectantly at Gold. “Now, what were we talking about? Whose turn was it?”

Gold took a deep breath, and with one big rush, said everything she ever imagined saying. “About the guests at this very odd tea party, and it’s your turn. You’re acting absent-minded because you think it will save you, but I know you’re doing it on purpose to distract me. It won’t work, you know. I already know what you did to Stacie Hunter. You can’t hide her from me. I already know.” Gold lifted a finger to point accusingly at the old faerie. “And you won’t get away with it.”

Mrs Graypole scratched her nose, then scratched behind her ear. “You’re bluffing.”

“I’m not. I don’t know how to lie.”

Mrs Graypole barked in laughter. “Of course you don’t. What faerie child does? Why don’t you give this up? You’re just a child and you have no place here.”

Gold glared back at her. “No faerie does in this world, but I won’t give up. I’m not a child, not anyone’s child. In fact, I’m—”

And that’s when the waif appeared.

Mrs Graypole saw it and stiffened.

Gold turned.

The waif was sitting in the chair next to her. A ghostly figure, who reached for the orange flowered teacup. Her fingers drifted through it. The waif pouted.

Mrs Graypole suddenly knocked over a steaming hot tea cup and her chair tipped back so far that she fell over backwards.

Gold couldn’t help staring, first at Mrs Graypole’s legs kicking upward and then back at the phantom figure. It was Stacie Hunter. Her body and clothes appeared pearly white and transparent. A real ghost? Gold thought in despair. What did Mrs Graypole do to you, Stacie Hunter? She was dying to ask, but Mrs Graypole hadn’t answered her last question.

Mrs Graypole groaned from the floor. “It’s not the same this time,” she said. “It’s always the same. They go quiet and it’s easy, just a little bite and poof, they turn into mice. I can lift them by the tail and into my pocket, then they go in a warm little cage with a wheel. But this time…it’s all wrong wrong wrong. He never should have brought the girl. He should have taken her back to the Green Glen himself,” Mrs Graypole kept mumbling.

Gold exchanged glances with the ghost-Stacie. If Mrs Graypole was trying to kidnap Stacie Hunter, that meant Stacie Hunter wasn’t dead. Gold needed to find her and quick. “Where are you?” She whispered to the waif.

…. to be continued. Find out what happens in Changeling Fate, the adventure of Hawke Hunter which is available today as a free downloadable e-book and you can find it on from other online bookstores.